


a kiss, for your jailbird brother

by ultraviolence



Category: Fate/Apocrypha, Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, Fate/stay night - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate universe - Mafia, Drama and Angst, Enemies to Lovers, Flirting, Half-Sibling Incest, Handcuff Kink, Intrigue, Kissing, Light Bondage, M/M, Rivals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-13
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-11 22:25:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15981776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultraviolence/pseuds/ultraviolence
Summary: What to do (or NOT to do) when you're a cop and you fell in love with a suspected mob boss.Or, rookie cop Arjuna falls in love with the wrong guy, at the wrong place, at the wrong time.





	a kiss, for your jailbird brother

**Author's Note:**

> I've had a writer's block, sort of. I promise I'm going to continue writing That WIP Royalty AU fic (lol), and that this is just a fling. I originally planned this to be a PWP, but it grew into a messy, emotional monstrosity. (just like Arjuna)
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

In the dark well of unconsciousness, he thought, he saw shapes.

Human shapes, they were, and once the focus and clarity of thought returns, he could see that they were shaped like him, and another, his countenance perfect, his hair the colour of moonlight.

He could only think of how naive he was, back then, and how naive he was, still, for thinking that when you loved a wolf, you could turn it into a human.

How wrong he was.

* * *

It was the perfect day to be assigned to a major case— _his_ first major case—and everything seemed to be aligned together, the planets in order, the stars in their heavenly grace graced him with a flawless start. Arjuna remembered that day in crystal clear clarity—the shapes of the cloud, even, he could remember it perfectly—and he knows he would until the day he die. Their move was a cold, calculated fury, carefully planned and well executed, a drug-busting case. It was to be the first major blow in their war against the mob, who controlled the city through its shadows, here now and gone in a flash, like a pack of man-eating wolves skulking in the shadows.

He doesn’t believe in chances, nor accidents.

Still, it was the perfect accident. A misstep here and Arjuna would have never gone down the beast’s maw, or stepped on the metaphorical bear trap.

Too well he remembered their first meeting. He was still a rookie back then, taking orders while gritting his teeth all the while, dreaming of the day when he was captain. The back room wasn’t supposed to be his jurisdiction, since it was where most interesting things are found—or people—and yet, he checked it all the same, even while knowing that he would incur the wrath of his captain. Thing is, he was only supposed to guard it until two other officers arrived. 

Sometimes, in his dreams, when he saw him in that back room, sitting in the corner casually while smoking a cigarette, like there’s no drug-busting going on, Arjuna wondered if the other man had planned it. If, like everything else in his life, he had planned their meeting the way he had planned the drug operation, or the flow of dirty money in his organisation. After all, a lot of the cops are dirty, and some are playing double agent. Oh, how naive he was, to think that it was all an accident.

“Stand up slowly and raise your hand,” Arjuna remembered saying, clicking his gun threateningly the way they taught them to do it in the force, not knowing yet who his opponent is, although he’d sized him up. The man in the black suit was svelte, he supposed, if he was being generous—borderline frail was the word, actually, although he wore his expensive-looking suit with a grace that Arjuna had never seen before, even amongst politicians and the _créme de la créme_ of society—wrapped in a red coat he wore loosely about him, smoking a cigarette like it wasn’t the end of his world, his blue eyes regarding him detachedly, as if Arjuna was a pest, or an amusing piece of work that he had not seen before.

For some reason, Arjuna felt like he had seen him before, though he doesn’t quite know— _yet_ —when or where.

“Oh,” the other man said, slowly, though he made no move to do what Arjuna has told him to do, as if Arjuna was aiming a toy gun at him, “do I have to do that? You have control of the premise already, as far as I’m concerned. There’s no more need for me to stand and raise my hand like a criminal. Besides, I’m innocent.”

Arjuna wanted to laugh at the last thing he said, but kept it together. There, too, was a mocking quality to the man’s words that makes Arjuna distrust him more. “Innocent or not, we’re going to prove it. Though I believe the word you’re looking for is perhaps ‘guilty’, unless you are simply the wrong man at the wrong place at the wrong time.” _though I highly doubted it,_ he thought to himself. 

“I am,” the other man continued, calmly, “the wrong man at the wrong place at the wrong time. Though I’m not asking you to let me go, not yet. On the contrary, we have a lot to talk about.”

“I have nothing to talk about with a criminal,” Arjuna told him, his gun stance unwavering. The unknown man raises an eyebrow in question, the look in his eyes mocking. “And I’m going to shoot unless you stop this charade right now and do as I say.”

“I have a feeling you liked being told what to do more than the other way around,” the other man retorted, to Arjuna’s confusion—he doesn’t know why he felt blood rushing to his cheeks, and he hoped the other man didn’t see it—though he makes it up with an ice-cold glare. “And I see that I was dealing with a rookie,” he continued, pouring himself a drink from the stopper on the table, “drink?”

“A generous offer,” Arjuna said, still glaring at him, this time in disbelief—this man is pouring himself a drink while there had been a drug bust in the premises and acting like there’s no cop pointing a gun at him, “yet one I have to refuse. You may call me a rookie, but as I said,” Arjuna continued, matching his calm move by move, “I’m going to shoot if you didn’t do as I say. I will give you 60 seconds.”

“That’s a mighty long time to finish your drink,” the other man said, laughing softly, “and besides, I have a feeling you’re not going to shoot. You wouldn’t know how to explain it to your captain. And you wouldn’t know how to explain it to the world, too, would you?”

“Are you so confident about yourself that you’re—“ he was going to say c _onfident that your shooting will matter that much in the current state that we’re in_ , but then everything clicks. The other man smiles, seeing the realisation dawns on Arjuna’s face, a wolf in a sheep’s clothing. 

“That’s right. You know who I am, don’t you?” he said, a flash of red as he dons his coat after finishing his drink, moving to the other side of the desk just to lean on it, and size Arjuna. “So you know that it would matter. It would matter a _lot_. Thus, you wouldn’t shoot me. Would you, rookie?”

“I- I’m not a rookie,” Arjuna growls. “As much as I know you’re not innocent. You must be involved with this if you’re here, one way or another, especially considering all that money you have. _They_ must have come from somewhere. Am I right?”

“No,” the man with hair the colour of moonlight said, tilting his head. “I’m innocent. I just happen to be here for business. And if you’re not a rookie, you must have had a name,” he smiled again, slightly, an enigma, fingers reaching out to touch Arjuna’s chin, softly, a fleeting sensation. Arjuna felt a shock, felt his heart stopped— “are you going to tell me?”

“Arjuna,” he said, stiffly, lowering his gun. “But it’s none of your business.”

“It is,” the other man said, “since you insist on pointing your gun at me earlier. But now that we’ve got the matter settled, I think I should be on my way.”

He remembered being speechless, thinking _oh the audacity of this man, this young billionaire_ , also seeing a picture of a boy who strongly resembles this man that he saw long ago as a child, all as the other man puts out his smoke on an ashtray in one graceful move, and prepared to leave.

“No,” Arjuna said, weakly, “wait.”

“Would this be another one of your attempt to frame me guilty? If so, you can talk to my lawyers, and we’ll see how well you’d fare, Arjuna.”

It was a veiled threat—there was no other word for it—and Arjuna had no choice but to lower his gun completely, and holster it. 

“Good boy,” he purred, always in control. “Then I’ll see you. I trust that you know that you should keep this little meeting a secret from your fellow officers?”

“Yes,” he told him, after a period of silence, gritting his teeth. It was against his code of conduct, but he knows that if he went up against him, he would lose. And back then, he doesn’t even know yet the full damage of what the other man could inflict. Oh, how naive he was. “But you didn’t tell me your name yet. I told you mine.”

The man smiled, ironically this time, something like amusement flashing in his blue eyes. “Karna. It was nice to meet you, Arjuna.” 

It was only the start.

* * *

The next time they met was in a bar, the bar that Arjuna frequently visited during his time off and whenever he felt like taking off some heat off himself. He remembered sitting on one of the stools, keeping to himself in a corner, going over the details of the recent case in his head. Even when he’s not working, he’s working—something that one of his brothers had so aptly pointed out. 

In his defence, crime had never risen so rapidly, nor harder to fight. 

He’d always thought that his _raison d’etre_ for joining the force was professional. He was good at it—top marks at the academy—and his family had always consisted of cops, so it was indeed a logical conclusion that he became one, as well. There was nothing particularly interesting about it, nothing heart-warming or show-stopping. 

He was only on his second drink when someone sat down beside him, in a flash of black and gold, commanding the attention of not only the bartender but he’d reckoned everyone else with a working set of eyes in the bar. 

“ _You_ ,” he growled, immediately flinching from him. If there was one person who could ruin his night, it was this man. “What are _you_ doing here? This is a cops’ bar.”

_Not for people like you_ , he thought, raising his chin defiantly as he thought of that. He remembered playing their first meeting in his head at that time—a chance encounter, one that was loaded with so many questions and so little answers. Oh, how naive he was back then.

“I thought this bar is open for public?” Karna said, in that subtly mocking tone that he seemed to always have with him. Or perhaps that’s just the way he speaks to people he considered beneath him, Arjuna thought bitterly. _You’re not the only one here with rich connections and a mound of gold_. “Or have that changed? Or perhaps—“ he makes himself at home, to Arjuna’s disdain, settling down comfortably in his chair, “—perhaps that’s your way of saying that you are glad to see me again?”

“You wish,” Arjuna spat, pulling himself away from him, eliciting a small, ironic smile from Karna, “you probably thought you could buy everything if you so wished. Well, some people can’t be bought.”

“And yet you continued to keep it a secret,” Karna observed, lowering his voice, too perceptive for Arjuna’s liking. There was something about the man that combines insight and wisdom, a meeting of two complementary traits where it hits just right, that was too…intellectual for Arjuna’s liking. That was probably what earned him a seat in the upper crust of society after coming up from the dregs of it. 

Perhaps his dislike of Karna was only skin deep, an instinctive disdain. Or perhaps it was something much, much deeper. Arjuna didn’t like to think about it, but if Karna was who he suspected him to be, then it was something that has to do with blood.

“I’ve done my research on you,” Arjuna said, in the same pitch of voice, narrowing his eyes at him, “there’s a lot on your businesses and background to be suspect of. I wonder why nobody had bothered to arrest you yet. Perhaps you bought them all off?”

“Ah,” Karna said, waving his hand at the bartender, who poured him something from the top shelf, “so now we’re at the stage where you accuse me of doing imaginary crimes. Well, _other_ imaginary crimes. Are you so keen to see me in handcuffs?”

“On the contrary,” Arjuna retorted, “perhaps I’m just keen to see where you’re going to lead us, because the smoke will alert the fire detector eventually. And perhaps, one fine day, justice will be served. Have you ever thought of that, Karna?”

“How presumptuous of you, Arjuna,” Karna rebuked him, gently, sipping his drink, “to assume a man’s innocence based on imaginary crimes that did not exist. Perhaps it’s how you cops spent your time down at the station, but people like me had much better things to do than to try to undermine other people,” he said, and Arjuna almost rolled his eyes. _The nerve and audacity of this man,_ he thought, _it’s beyond me_. “Well, since you rejected my offer last time, rookie, why don’t I treat you to a drink? It doesn’t have to mean anything.” Karna continued, smiling his enigmatic smile, raising his glass as if he was toasting him. Arjuna felt the need to punch him in the face, at the very least.

“Who says it means anything?” Arjuna blasts him, feeling his temper—against his better judgement—rising. “As I said, if you think you could bought me off, too, you were wrong. Dead wrong.”

There was silence, and then there was slyness in Karna’s smile that comes up next, a slyness that really makes Arjuna’s blood boil. He remembered the way he looked at him, too, a sly, sleazy look that sets him on edge, as if he was something…Karna could touch. It filled Arjuna with a particular disgust. “Perhaps it wasn’t that,” Karna said, simply, as if it was all as easy as that, lighting a cigarette. “So. Drink?”

He could think of a thousand rude things to say, but instead he kept his cool and scoffed. “I’ll go one step further and take my leave now. Have a pleasant evening, Karna.”

The other man gave him another one of his smiles, but Arjuna knows that it wasn’t the end. Far from it, in fact. “Then suit yourself,” he said, raising his glass once more, this time for a toast, unbothered and unruffled, “cheers.”

Arjuna felt something like loathing welling up within him as he puts on his coat and left the money on the counter, but also something else, something that he would not admit until later, something that makes his blood boil as much as anger, something that keeps him up at night, later on, thinking of Karna, touching himself as he fantasised about accepting his offer for a drink.

Oh, how naive he was to think that denial could save him.

* * *

The third time they met was the first time it happened. For the first time, Arjuna didn’t really remember the details of the event—and honestly it could matter less—but, as fate would have it, they ran into each other. He at least remembered waiting in the car impatiently for his partner to return, listening to the radio but not really listening, the summer weather hot and sweltering around him like molasses, like a feeling of nostalgia he couldn’t really ignore. 

Arjuna remembered, too, thinking back to the photo he saw all those years ago, a photo of a lost half-brother, a photo half-remembered but not completely forgotten. He had his suspicions, and reality—not to mention proof—had often proven his suspicions to be correct. 

Perhaps the boy really was Karna. Or perhaps the weather had started to get into him.

He got out of the car, only to spot the man in person, similarly exiting a car like he was, only followed closely by two men in suits. Arjuna’s heart skipped a beat, then he remembered what he’d read—that the hotel nearby was one of Karna’s favourite spots to stay. 

What happened next is that he found himself confronting Karna in an alleyway near the hotel, after Karna waved away his bodyguards, to their disbelief. Arjuna doesn’t know, in actuality, why the hell did he do that, but looking back, he thought, he was just looking for a chance to speak with Karna, a yearning to look at him again—him who he suspected was his half-brother, although that wasn’t the only reason—even if they looked upon each other with loathing and disgust. 

“Are you here to accuse me of more imaginary crimes, Arjuna, or do you finally have concrete proof that I was a criminal? Please be quick. I don’t have all day,” Karna begins, wryly. He was already halfway to lighting a cigarette, but Arjuna—for some reason—stopped him, hand brushing Karna’s. Karna turned to him, really turned to him, raising an eyebrow in silent question.

“I know who you are,” Arjuna told him, narrowing his eyes at him. “You can disguise your background and prettify it however you want, Karna, but I know who you really are.”

“Oh, really?” Karna said, and Arjuna imagined him rolling his eyes. “Now you’re just being overly dramatic. Do I need to shout for background music? Is this the important thing that you promised me? Colour me disappointed.”

“Karna—“ Arjuna started, grinding his teeth, wondering what is it that really makes his blood boils so every time they were in the same space together. “As I said, I know who you are.”

“And I know who _you_ are, Arjuna. I know what kind of man you are, your hopes and wishes. I know what makes you tick. I know, for example—“ he pins Arjuna to the nearest wall, which took him completely by surprise, “that you liked a challenge. You liked it even better when you found yourself in an unexpected situation. You would profess—and loudly—that you hated it, but in truth, it was the opposite. Isn’t it?”

Arjuna couldn’t take it, it was more than he could bear. He remembered shifting his gaze, feeling the familiar rush of blood lightening his cheeks. No man has ever caught him off guard, not like this. 

“I—“ he opened his mouth to respond, but was caught off guard by the sensation of Karna’s lips teasing his earlobe. “Fuck off,” he finally said, hotly, “you know nothing about me. What do you know? Mother dumped you when you were a baby.”

Karna pulled back, and for a moment, Arjuna saw the flash of anger in his eyes—eliciting the feeling of triumph in his own heart—but it lasted shorter than the life of a moth circling a fire. He felt himself being pinned harder to the wall, and again, Karna smiled, calmly. 

“Is that any way to talk to your brother?” he said, too close for comfort. “Come on, Arjuna. At least use your imagination. At this point, you bore me.”

“Come closer and I will tell you,” Arjuna snarled, trying to break free of Karna’s grip, but the other man had pinned his wrists securely to the wall. 

“I will do you one better,” Karna told him, lazily, casually, and kissed him on the lips. Arjuna remembered being shocked, blushing out of embarrassment, but then—what he forever regretted, his downfall—he kissed Karna back, hotly, the embodiment of his repressed desire for him. Oh, how naive he was back then to think that it was only a momentary reaction.

They kissed each other, then, until Arjuna felt dizzy, _wrong_ —he now knows for certain that Karna is his lost half-brother, a missing link, or, perhaps more accurately, a loose knot, and not only that, a possible link with the mob, at that—and he pulled away, knowing full well of the consequences of his actions, only he was still too naive to realise fully the magnitude of his actions. Karna pulled away, too, satiated, his grip leaving marks on Arjuna’s wrists, his kisses leaving a bruise on Arjuna’s lips. 

“I do think we should take this…somewhere else, don’t you think?” Karna said, straightening himself up, and Arjuna could only remember thinking, at that time, _how could this man be ever so calm_. 

“You said you have somewhere else to be,” Arjuna croaked in return, his voice still hoarse, knowing only that he wanted him, ever so badly, even if he knows how wrong that was. Even if he’d fantasised about this before, night after night after night, and nothing satisfies him anymore, not the men and women he’d slept with, not alcohol, nothing. 

“And do _you_ have somewhere else to be, Arjuna?” Karna replied, his gaze like a hawk’s, missing nothing and taking in everything. Arjuna felt naked underneath his gaze, as if Karna had undressed all his secrets and saw who he really is beneath all of those.

“No,” Arjuna said, lying through his teeth, forgetting all about his partner and his case, “not really.”

* * *

It was one of the many shady, seedy motels that Karna chose, a place unfit for a man of his stature and social status, but one who would guarantee complete secrecy and, Arjuna suspected, one of the places where the mob runs their business in. They only took one look at them—a little suspicious of his uniform at first, but no questions asked, and Arjuna suspected that it was because of Karna— and then they were being ushered in to a vacant room, and, the next thing Arjuna knows, they were making out in bed, Karna on top of him. 

“I could arrest you now, you know,” he whispered, slowly unbuttoning Karna’s shirt, eliciting a half-moon smile from him.

“For what?” Karna said in return, lips soft and deadly at the same time, teasing Arjuna’s lips, “for seducing a cop? This is hardly my first time.”

Arjuna lets out a moan as Karna bit his bottom lip, softly, only hard enough to make the bruise he’d left earlier hurt. “No,” he said, in-between the kisses and ragged breaths, “for your connection to the mob.”

Karna laughs, then, a real laugh, although a harsh one. “You really don’t know anything, do you, rookie? I can’t believe a rookie cop is my half-brother—“ he kisses Arjuna, rough, on the lips, undressing him as if there was no tomorrow, “but here we are.” he lowered himself to whisper in Arjuna’s ear. “What would you do if I arrested _you_ instead, Juna?”

“I would put up a fight,” Arjuna told him, biting Karna’s earlobe. 

He lied, though. For the many sins he had committed, that was probably one of the worst. Karna laughed, again, softer this time, and soon enough, he made quick work of him, handcuffing Arjuna’s right wrist to the bedpost. 

“You’re lying,” Karna said, teasing Arjuna’s hard-on with his fingertips, eliciting more moans from him. “You hardly put up a fight. Is this what they taught rookie cops nowadays? No wonder the mob are winning.”

“I’m not a rookie anymore,” Arjuna protested, hotly, still feeling his temper flaring, intertwining with desire, pulling Karna closer with his free hand. He couldn’t get enough of him. “Anyway, you mean ‘we’, don’t you? ‘We’ are winning.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” Karna bites back, smoothly, guiding Arjuna’s hand to his own hard-on. “Focus, little brother. Perhaps it’s time you should keep your mouth shut, before I gag you too.”

“ _Karna_ —“ Arjuna swears, but felt his own need for him rising rapidly, following Karna’s guidance, caressing the other man’s erection. He let him bit him on the neck, moaning loudly as Karna left his marks on him. There was something about his dominance that still makes him angry, that makes him bite his lip as hard as Karna bit his earlier, but most parts of him… _wanted_ it. 

He wouldn’t say it loudly, and the thought alone—finally free of denial—made blood rush to his cheeks, but this is what he wanted: to be used by Karna. There was something, too, something about the man that simultaneously attracted and repulsed Arjuna, an elusive quality that colours his desire for him. 

“Relax,” Karna purred, leaving a surprisingly gentle kiss on his lips, “I’m not going to hurt you, even if you hated me. Do you trust me, Arjuna? You must have, seeing that you let me go this far with you.”

“Surprisingly,” Arjuna answered, fingertips touching Karna’s bare chest, admiring them in secret, “yes, I do. Only for tonight.”

“Only for tonight,” Karna echoed, a sentiment that sits well on him, like his red coat or the rebellion he’d waged against the world’s old money, Arjuna noted wryly. 

Then everything blurred into a wave of pleasure as they satisfied each other’s selfish desire, again and again. 

Oh, how naive he was to think that it wouldn’t destroy him.

* * *

The aftermath left him feeling bare, stripped of all emotions.

But that’s not what he wanted to remember, and neither does the nights they shared after that, again and again and again, in safehouses and midnight motels, always reaching for each other, forever not touching. If one hovers close, the other will swoop in for advantage only to swoop out again soon after, never staying in one place for too long, two pieces in a game that never seem to end.

In professional matters, too, Karna always stayed two steps ahead from him.

It doesn’t matter that Arjuna had suspected him to be not only as a link to the mob but the alpha and the omega, the beginning and the ending of it all, the ouroboros of Arjuna’s story, although both proof and Karna kept eluding him, always two steps ahead in the game, never for one second lagging behind. It’s a dance that made Arjuna all too often grinds his teeth in frustration and spends too much time at the bar, but a dance that, to some degree, excites him, nonetheless. It has well become his _raison d’etre_ , to the dismay of his colleagues at the station.

They have a silent truce of not bringing work when they were together—no ferreting for proof or information, no midnight rummaging for something that could destroy the other, no blackmailing—and so far, both of them had kept to their own ends of the bargain. Arjuna secretly wondered how long it will go on, wondering when Karna will start turning his back on him—or if he had did that and outsmarted him. 

What he remembered next was the beach house.

It was a beautiful house, although a little generic in Arjuna’s opinion, a little too perfect. Perhaps that was what Karna was aiming for. But the house doesn’t matter—the invitation to it does. It was a mysterious invitation, just as beautiful and perfect as the house, signed by a person unknown, inviting him to come to a certain place at a certain time and date. Arjuna was too smart to fall for such a trick, but he had his suspicions about the sender.

It wasn’t a pleasant ride, and halfway through he suspected that it was a trap, but it turns out that he was wrong.

“I’m sorry for the bumpy ride,” Karna said, almost apologetically, once Arjuna had been ushered inside, and his people had left. “I don’t want the press to find out about this getaway.”

“The press or the police?” Arjuna said, rubbing his head and scowling at him. He wasn’t entirely joking, and Karna knows it, although said man merely smiled serenely in return, sipping his martini. He looked sufficiently summer-like, Arjuna noted, once he had straightened up himself, with a loose white button-up shirt on, shorts, and a pair of sandals, topped with the drink he was holding and the sunglasses clipped on his shirt. 

“Sharp as always, Arjuna,” he said, in return, giving Arjuna a smile. “But I said what I said. And besides,” he stood up, seating himself beside Arjuna, “didn’t we agree not to bring work into our relationship?”

“Our ‘ _relationship_ ’,” Arjuna scoffed at word. “I am not one of your business partners, Karna.”

“Then what’s the matter?” there was genuine confusion in his face, and Arjuna wanted to wipe it off. He had to be lying if he said that his heart didn’t skip a beat, if—if—for a second, he didn’t expect Karna to get it.

But no, of course he wouldn’t get it. Arjuna’s heart sunk, and he locked it away, before it could sank any deeper.

“Nothing,” Arjuna told him, his face hardening, turning away slightly away from him, only turning back when Karna loosely wrapped his arms around his waist and rested his head casually on his shoulder. 

“Good,” he said, satisfied. _It is so easy to satisfy him_ , Arjuna thought, bitterly, _I wish he was a little more hard to please_. But perhaps that was the man who shocked the world when he became the world’s youngest billionaire, and the man—Arjuna suspected—behind the largest mob operation in the city. Perhaps that was the other side of him. There was comfortable silence between them, for a bit, as Karna sipped his martini. “So. Drink, little brother? I think you could use some, to loosen up.”

“Yes,” Arjuna agreed, watching the smile spreads across Karna’s face. Some people would say that it was the things they do for love, but Arjuna wasn’t sure if it’s love yet. He wasn’t sure if it’s anything at all, even if his heart thundered madly inside his chest. “I’ll have what you have.”

“Then I’ll toast you,” Karna told him, beckoning for his butler to make another martini for him. When it arrives, he took it from the tray and presented it to Arjuna with a little flourish and one of his smiles. “Cheers. For our working relationship,”

“For our working relationship,” Arjuna echoed, though he was thinking of something else, a fleeting dream that would never come to pass, not in this world, not in this city, not considering who they are and where they stand. Perhaps in another universe, he wanted to believe, but his heart doubted that.

Oh, how naive he was to believe that it was only the beginning.

* * *

The beach under the moonlight was unbelievably beautiful, and, too, he remembered every detail of it. He remembered Karna’s warm presence beside him, smoking casually, and the colour of the buttons on his shirt. He remembered the smell of sea air, the salt and the feel of the sand underneath their feet, how the moonlight gently touched the water, the lapping of the waves and the cry of the birds. It was a quiet night, and they can see the stars, softly forming familiar patterns in the dark veil of the night sky. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Karna broke the silence, his silvery voice a soft whisper in the moonlit beach. “That’s why I come here sometimes when life gets too rough—to clear my head.”

Arjuna couldn’t help but crack a small smile. “To escape both the press AND the cops?” 

“You’re very persistent, aren’t you?” Karna gave him a small grin. “But that’s what I liked about you, Arjuna. Smoke?” he offered, producing a packet of cigarettes. Arjuna was hard-wired to reject his offer, but this time he found himself reaching inside the package. He thought he saw a small, triumphant smile from Karna’s side, but that could be a trick of the moonlight. “Let me light it for you,” he said, moving close to light it with the fire from his own cigarette. 

A comfortable silence settles between them, as Arjuna blows the smoke of his cigarette and Karna watches the sky. Something twinkles, and falls, and he felt Karna’s fingers on his own, beckoning him forward.

“Look,” Karna said, a childish wonder in his voice, “a falling star, Juna.”

Arjuna, once more, couldn’t help but smile—and wonder—a lopsided smile, although he almost held himself back, he remembered. “Do you want to make a wish, Karna?”

Karna, a cigarette still between his lips, pulled Arjuna forward, lacing his fingers with his. Arjuna, surprised, followed him, like a lover, like the moon following the sun, always in orbit, forever enchanted. “Yes. And while we’re at it, I want to play in the waves with you, too.”

What happens next was unprecedented, although looking back, Arjuna thought, he should have seen it coming. He came with the intention to talk, or perhaps to look for a game-changer, something that he could hold close to his chest when they’re back at playing the game. But instead— instead he found something more, _felt_ something more. 

“I love you,” he blurted out, an accident, something that should never be. He cursed himself mentally right afterward for saying that, for getting carried away enough to say that—his first rule when it comes to everyone is to not get too attached, especially with _Karna_ , out of all people—and for a moment, Arjuna felt like he was in Wonderland, where up was down, and down was up, and that he was, once more, just a boy, trying to find his way. If Karna was in any way bothered or surprised, he doesn’t show it. His back doesn’t stiffen, and, what surprised Arjuna most was the speed of his reply, as if he hadn’t thought it through, too.

As if he meant it.

“I love you too, Juna,” he replied, and Arjuna almost believed him.

How naive he was to do just that.

* * *

In the end, there was darkness, and then there was light. 

Arjuna blinked, once, twice, feeling a dizziness in his head, a cloudiness that clouded his thoughts, even if the dreams—or visions—he saw was as vivid as day, and etched in his mind as clear as a river flowing through a fertile valley on a bright spring day. He moved to rub his head, but discovered that his hands have been restrained by the wrists above his head by a pair of cuffs that doesn’t seem far from his own. 

Then he took stock of his surroundings, finding himself to be in a darkly lit, squarish room, and he spotted a glare like a mirror’s on the opposite side of the room.

His heart skipped a beat. Someone had been watching him.

And that someone, perhaps seeing him coming to consciousness, has moved away from the mirror. It felt like forever, but the door opened, and Arjuna realised that there was a stuffy quality about the room—and a tang of something metallic in the air, something that was too close to blood for his tastes.

The man stepped away from the darkness and into the light—locking the door behind him—and Arjuna’s eyes went wide, even if he knows, somewhere deep down inside, that he wasn’t supposed to be surprised.

“Well now,” Karna said, tilting his head, blowing a smoke ring in the direction of Arjuna’s face, “this is a little awkward.”

“Clearly,” Arjuna replied in a clipped tone, glaring at him. So this was the face of the myth—the _man_ —that he had been chasing day and night, and it was as he dreaded. “But at least now I have clear proof to arrest you.”

Karna gave him a mysterious smile, something akin to a mystical creature, here now and a myth the next day. “We shall see about that, shall we?” he pulled himself a seat and seated himself down on it, with all the grace of a royalty but a wolf nonetheless—a wolf that had Arjuna fooled—and with all the casualness in the world, as if they were seated together for a chat in his beach house. “Now what to do about you,” he took one long look at Arjuna, and Arjuna gritted his teeth, “I did hear that they bring an interesting chap in, but I never thought it was you.”

“Bullshit,” Arjuna spat out, feeling his face heat up with anger that he hadn’t felt before, not even towards him, his rival and missing brother, oh, how naive he was, “you’ve planned everything all along, haven’t you? You were behind everything, too. And the drug shipments, the illegal trafficking of weapons—it’s all you. Your businesses are just a clean front for what you really are.”

“Are we really doing this?” Karna said, putting down his cigarette, for the first time looking bothered, even if only slightly. Good, Arjuna thought, I wanted to get on his nerves. “Are you really going to stand there and accuse me?”

“Of the things you did and the things you are still doing, yes,” Arjuna told him, slyly, but Karna is already moving on to other things. He could tell by the thoughtful look on his face. “Now you’re thinking about how to get rid of me, aren’t you? You’re thinking about the best way to do that. Gods, Karna, you are so predictable sometimes.”

“No, Juna, I wasn’t thinking about that,” Karna smiled, casually draping himself on his chair. Despite his smile, there was something that makes Arjuna feel...uncomfortable. It was gut feeling, and his gut feeling had saved him a lot of times in the force. Perhaps it will this time, too. “I was thinking about two things. How you got the information about this hideout and who sold you the information,” Karna said, with the ghost of a smile, cigarette still smoking on the table beside him. Then his eyes slowly moved down from his eyes to his body, and Arjuna felt a shiver down his spine—and a kind of pleasure that he hadn’t experienced before. It’s true that they have tried experiencing each other in new and novel ways, and Arjuna had to admit that Karna was at least right about two things—that he liked being told what to do despite his protestations and that he liked a challenge—but it was never like this.

He’d never felt so helpless, especially as Karna turned his chair towards him, and opens his legs slightly—an invitation. Arjuna felt blood rush—embarrassingly—towards his cock. 

Karna’s eyes moved back towards his face, and when their gazes met, he smiled, slowly. Arjuna knows he knows, feeling blood, too, rushing to his cheeks. “So tell me, brother. We can do this the easy way. Who sold you the information?”

Arjuna opened his mouth, watching as hope dawn in Karna’s blue eyes, ever so slightly, like the rising sun, then gave him a fuck-all smile. “You can go to hell, _brother_. I’m not answering your questions. And you can’t make me.”

There was silence—Arjuna thought Karna was going to laugh—but he didn’t. Instead, he padded closer—a predator with every step—and touched Arjuna’s face, gently, like a lover. “Oh, believe me, I can make you. And I will,” he said, and smiled, and smiled, “now do you want to do it the easy way—“ his fingertips touched Arjuna’s lips, “or the hard way?” 

“Do you do this to every cop you’ve snared in your net, Karna? I’m just wondering,” Arjuna said, once more gritting his teeth, as Karna hand absentmindedly brushing his left thigh. He tried to shake him off, to no avail. 

“Not really,” Karna shrugged, “just my stubborn little half-brother who’s also coincidentally the rookiest cop I’ve ever known.”

“Is that a compliment? I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“And I’ll take something else as a souvenir,” Karna retorted, his voice barely a whisper, fingertips finding Arjuna’s lips and neck—and started unbuttoning his shirt. Arjuna felt his face turning red, but he really can’t do anything about it. He felt the strong urge to touch him, then—to at least turn Karna’s face towards him and assure himself that this was the person he loved, this was the person he loved—but he can’t, so instead he turned his face the other way, swallowing the bitter comebacks and the sweet nothings he could have said.

“Why the long face?” Karna said, turning his face towards him, “you don’t want this? I thought you wanted me to fuck you, Arjuna.”

“ _Karna_ —“ Arjuna started, swallowing hard. He always hated the way Karna stated his desires as if it was obvious, and still is. “Aren’t you supposed to not play around? Don’t fraternise—“ he bit his lip, playfully, and Karna pushed him by the shoulders and kissed him on the lips, hard, “—with your prisoners. Didn’t they teach you that?”

“My mentor taught me a lot of things,” Karna purred, “but he also taught me to be free with my desires. Anyway, I am not playing around. I am trying to get you to spill the information that I wanted, Juna.”

“Then you’re doing the wrong thing,” Arjuna said, feeling Karna’s hands caressing his exposed chest, “I’m not going to give you anything.”

“You’re lying,” Karna flat-out pointed it out, and he kissed him again, on the lips, harder than before. His lips then found Arjuna’s neck, down to his bared chest—eliciting moans from Arjuna—and then he unzipped his trousers, slowly, fingertips caressing his erection.

“Are you going to be a good boy now and tell me what I’ve wanted to hear?” Karna asked, his voice smooth as polished silver, though there was a sharpness to it that reminded Arjuna of sunlight. He was on his knees, teasing Arjuna, pulling his cock out of his underwear. “As I said, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. You choose.”

“No,” Arjuna told him, his voice hoarse, instinctively trying to free himself from this hell that Karna had invented personally for him. “I’m not going to tell you anything. I’ve told you.”

“What a naughty boy,” Karna said, lazily, squeezing his balls lightly. Arjuna struggled in his restraints, but another caress and he felt light, nearly undone. He wanted him so bad, wanted him to never stop touching him and for him to be inside him, but at the same time...at the same time he wanted all this to be over with. He felt sweat dripping from his forehead. “Maybe we could have this conversation later?” Karna continued, taking his cig from the table and continued smoking as if nothing happened, “perhaps when you’ve learnt your lesson?”

“No,” Arjuna told him, hoarsely. “Don’t.”

“What are you saying? I can’t hear you,” a sly smile spreads across Karna’s face, and he might as well slapped Arjuna in the face. 

“ _Please_ ,” Arjuna finally said, the word clogging up his throat and choking him from the inside-out, “I mean to say, no, please.”

“Good,” Karna nods, smiling beatifically, “but you’re still not telling me what I wanted to hear. Tell me who it is, Arjuna, and I will ride you until you’re too sore to stand.”

Arjuna shook his head. Karna sighed, putting out his smoke, and dusted himself before he closed the distance between them again. “You’re really stubborn, little brother,” he said, lips teasing him, “but that’s what I like about you.”

It’s far from over, Arjuna knows, but regardless, he was surprised when Karna unzips his own trousers, pulling his own cock out, and move to stand behind him. “I don’t have any lube with me,” he whispered, “so my saliva will have to do.”

When Karna entered him, Arjuna felt tears welling in his eyes—from pain and perhaps from something else—and it was as he promised, a rough and raw ride, and it left him feeling not only sore but also emptier afterwards. For all their time together, Karna had never once fucked him—and he’d never fucked him either—although, Arjuna had to admit to himself, he wanted it, and Karna knows he wanted it. 

Strangely, it left him feeling...emptier, as if everything inside of him has been emptied out and transferred somewhere else, like a house being vacated. 

“I gave you what you wanted,” Karna broke the silence, already zipping his trousers and straightening up himself, the perfect picture of a mob leader, Arjuna thought, with some amount of bitterness—and regret. The silence that comes afterwards tells him what Karna expected, as if he wasn’t being clear enough already from the start.

“If I tell you—both—or one of them, would you be willing to cut a deal with me?”

“Yes,” Karna responded, unhesitatingly. “And if you know my reputation, you’d know that I am a man of my word.”

“And your mercy is generous,” Arjuna said, smiling wryly, “although they did warn me not to seek it.”

“You’re my brother, even if we only share the same mother,” Karna said. “I am more than willing to set my brother free if he is willing to help me find out who the leak in my organisation is, or at least how the leak can reach him.”

_Don’t trust him_ , a voice in the back of his mind said, but perhaps it was the post-coital bliss, even if his ass felt uncomfortably raw and the cuffs burned his wrists, or perhaps it was something else, something like love, and Arjuna did otherwise. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before he opened his mouth to answer. 

“Come closer and I will tell you,” he said. “But after that...after that, you will set me free, and you will not bother me or my life ever again. Do we have a deal?”

“We have a deal,” Karna said, with a soft look that Arjuna had never seen before. He thought he looked both sad and regretful, and to some degree tired. But it might be a trick of the light.

“That’s it,” Arjuna sighed, after he told him the information he’d been looking for. He felt himself sagging, as if a great burden had been lifted from him, and he felt the end approaching. “Now, will you fulfill the end of your bargain, Karna?”

“Of course,” Karna said, wrapping his arms around him in an unpredictable embrace. Arjuna was visibly surprised and felt his body stiffened, but he eased himself into it. “One last question. Juna...do you love me?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Arjuna said, feeling the embrace tightening, just a bit, and he thought he heard the rustling of garment as if Karna was pulling something out, but that could be a trick his mind played on him. “Do you love me, Karna?”

A beat. Arjuna felt his heart thundering inside his chest, nervously inventing answers, but never picturing how it would end. How it would all end. 

“Yes. I love you, Arjuna.”

He thought he felt something cold being pressed to the side of his temple, and there was a click. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, comments & suggestions are always welcome!! <3


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